


for sale

by storiesfortravellers



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Angst about Oliver's Time on the Island, Closeted Character, M/M, Paparazzi, Set in Season 1, Sex, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-02
Updated: 2016-08-02
Packaged: 2018-07-28 20:08:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7654915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/storiesfortravellers/pseuds/storiesfortravellers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For this prompt at comment-fic on livejournal:<br/>Tommy Merlyn/Oliver Queen & paparazzo, someone takes pictures of them together because it's a huge story for them. (I've always figured that Oliver is like Hilton level famous)</p><p> </p><p>Note: The consent warning is for the photographer watching and taking pictures of Tommy and Oliver together without their knowledge or consent.</p><p>Other warnings include: the reporter knowing that he is likely outing Tommy and Oliver as bisexual, and the vaguely implied homophobia of the public/mass media, and hints at canon trauma.</p>
            </blockquote>





	for sale

It wasn't a question of ethics, really. Jack was a reporter. (Okay, a celebrity photographer. Okay, a papparazzo. But still, First Amendment.)

And this was news. Two young heirs to billionaires, the royalty of Starling City, caught with their hands down each other's pants.

It was clearly a good get. Jack should have felt incredibly pleased with himself. 

Relieved, even, to have finally gotten something that could give his career a much-needed boost.

Jack felt a little queasy about it, though. He had to admit.

It was complicated, of course.

But in this day and age, why feel guilty about something like this? Jack had always been out. Never wanted to be in a closet, not even in middle school. And he knew people who would say that outing people in the long run helps the cause. Not to mention that privacy was dead anyway - that guy who made Facebook kept saying so.

Still, it felt weird.

But then, maybe it wasn't outing them, he thought suddenly. Maybe they were both openly bi.

Jack knew that was bullshit, though. He would've seen it in the gossip rags by now if either kid was public.

Not kids, Jack reminded himself. They were a good 20 years younger than him, but they were no kids. They were silver-spoon-breathing former frat boys. They didn't need his pity, and they probably didn't even deserve it.

Jack pulled up the best shot he had taken. The two men had been in Merlyn's back yard, thinking the tall fence would keep them hidden as they sat next to the pool in the heat. When Jack had first found them, in fact, he had been hoping there might be a woman there too - a married woman, or a celebrity or debutante at least, or, even better, a prostitute - something to turn it into a real story so Jack could finally catch a break in this business.

Jack had been just about to leave disappointed when he saw the Merlyn kid lean over and run his hand up Queen's stomach. 

His fingers had moved over Queen's skin slowly, softly, like a question. 

The Queen kid had leaned up, kissed the Merlyn boy softly. 

Jack watched for a second, surprised, but then remembered to take pictures, clicking as many as he could, a whirlwind of soft clicks, too quiet for the two men to hear at this distance.

Jack had watched them closely through his camera, the expensive telephoto lens giving him a close-up view. He watched Merlyn try to lift Queen's shirt, and then pause at scars on the man's torso, ugly crooked things, scars that looked just plain wrong. 

Queen had quickly pulled his shirt back down and turned away. 

A few soft words then, from Merlyn, that Jack couldn't hear. They must have worked, because Oliver let Tommy kiss him again. 

Then more kissing. Groping. And then unbuttoned jeans, hands finding their way into boxers. 

Jack took as many shots as he could. 

He noticed that Tommy didn't try to lift Oliver's shirt again.

The best shot was taken right when they finished. Tommy had tried to lean in to get closer, maybe for a hug or another kiss, but Oliver turned away, and in that moment, both men's faces were facing the camera directly. Tommy's hand was resting on Oliver's hip, and Oliver's pants were around his ankles, so it was clear what had just happened. Tommy's face looked worried, or maybe needy. Like he wanted Oliver to turn back around and come back to him. 

Oliver... well, Oliver looked fucking broken. Like the mask he had been wearing for the press since coming back from that deserted island a few months back had just slipped off.

None of the rags had been able to get info on what had really happened to Queen on that horrible sounding hellhole. And Queen, who had grown up around cameras, smiled blankly for the press and played the careless party boy to perfection. But the face Jack saw in that moment, in that instant when sex or friendship or comfort or love, or whatever it was that Jack had just witnessed between the two men, made it too hard to lift the facade, Oliver's face told it all. 

Every brutal bit.

It was a good shot, Jack knew: it proved that the two men were fucking, but more importantly it also suggested trauma: desperately worried Tommy who can't reach ever-so-damaged Oliver. It told a story, one that any tabloid would pay a fortune for. And even the composition and lighting were good. Hell, that art school Jack went to decades ago, back when he fancied himself an artist, would probably think this was a damn good photo too. 

It sure did tell a story....

Jack looked down then at his second best shot. It was the two men, kissing as their hands fumbled with pulling each other's pants down as fast as they could. 

It looked like any other picture of two men who wanted each other. 

Their faces were recognizable but they were in profile. People could doubt that it's them if they really, really wanted to. 

But still. Jack could make a name for himself with the second best photo. Earn himself a nice paycheck at least.

He decided. He'd offer it to the Starling City Tattle first: an excellent pic of two scions jerking each other off by the pool. 

It was a good enough headline. 

And that was, after all, was all Jack had really been after.


End file.
